


with all the sorrow and the joy

by Lire_Casander



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Alex Is His Own Warning, Angst, Blood, Car Accidents, Coma, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of Chemo Sessions, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, TK Strand Is An Unreliable Narrator, Teasing, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23908105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: five times tk strand doesn't realize he's being toldi love you, and the one time he gets to say it
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 103
Kudos: 374
Collections: 9-1-1 Lone Star Week





	1. your love has always been enough

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [911 Lone Star Week](https://911lonestarweek.tumblr.com/) combined with the [100 ways to say I love you](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/613502094751776768/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you) prompt list from a while ago.
> 
> Beta'ed by the always amazing [Meloingly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meloingly/profile), who's done a Herculean job of going through this angst and making it readable for you all. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> I don't own anything. Characters and some lines and situations you might recognize are all Fox's.
> 
> Series title comes from _Home Movies (Over Your Shoulder)_ by David Cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [911 Lone Star Week](https://911lonestarweek.tumblr.com/), **Day 1: Family**. The prompt was _I get to start something new with you_ , and I've combined it with _97\. “I'll pick you up at the airport”_ given to me by [Bellakitse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellakitse/profile) from the [100 ways to say I love you](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/613502094751776768/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you) prompt list from a while ago.
> 
> The text messages are all created using [GeekPrank](https://geekprank.com/chat-screenshot/).
> 
> Chapter title comes from _Home_ by Daughtry.
> 
>  **Warnings for the chapter include:** fluff, self-deprecating TK

When TK wakes up, it’s to a warm bed and a strong arm over his waist, keeping him in place. He squirms a little, trying to get closer to the source of warmth surrounding him, and sighs contentedly. He still can’t believe he gets to do this with Carlos of all people — after everything TK has put them through, he’d thought Carlos would give up on him.

He knows they should be taking it slowly, but TK feels like he’s wasted precious time being a jerk around Carlos, not allowing him in when all Carlos wanted was a chance to just be there for TK. So he’s not dallying these days — he’s set himself to the task of relearning all the ways their bodies fit together, of committing to memory all the ways Carlos’ breath tickles his skin, of tiptoeing across the edge of falling in love even though he promised himself he would never be that vulnerable with anyone, after Alex.

Things have changed a lot, in the little over four months since his world tilted just the wrong side of darkness.

He’s never been happier than these past few weeks he’s finally allowed himself to just _be_ with Carlos, after months of pushing him away, but TK still feels like something’s missing. Like he’s a breathing puzzle and one of the pieces isn’t in its right place — or worse, that there’s something inherently broken in him that makes it impossible for the puzzle to be complete. 

“You’re thinking too loud,” Carlos slurs, voice thick with sleep. “I can _hear_ your thoughts all the way from here.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping in on your day off?” TK counteracts, getting free of Carlos’ grip on him. 

“Well,” Carlos replies, now sounding a bit more awake than before. “If a certain _someone_ hadn’t been overthinking, I would have kept sleeping.”

“Geez, Carlos, thanks for making a man feel all the love.”

Carlos huffs out a laugh. TK rubs his fingers up and down Carlos’ arm before getting out of bed. “I should get ready for work. I’m not lucky enough to have a day off until next week.” 

He climbs down the bed to grab his clothes, scattered throughout the room, the motions becoming harder to go through within each passing day. He doesn’t like leaving Carlos, even if it’s only temporary, even if it’s for work. TK has grown fond of their shared mornings whenever they can have them; there’s nothing he’d love more than to have _all_ the mornings and _all_ the nights, and every single tiny second in between, but that’s a big step for him right now. 

“What’s going on, TK?” Carlos asks him from his side of the bed. When TK turns around, his boxers in one hand and a shirt in the other, Carlos is sitting on the mattress, rubbing at his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re worrying about, Ty, but it’s too early in the morning to be doing this. Talk to me.”

TK shrugs and shakes his head. “It’s really nothing. I guess I’m still a bit asleep,” he lies. He doesn’t want to unload this train of thought on Carlos, he doesn’t want to scare _Carlos_ by coming off too strong, even if his boyfriend — and isn’t that a wonderful word — already knows how intense he can get. “But I should get going. I can’t be late _again_.”

Carlos chuckles at him as TK tries to recover his jeans, which seem to have fallen halfway underneath the bed. “Want me to give you a lift to the station?” he offers with a yawn. 

TK bites his lip, feigning indecision, until he shakes his head again. “Nah, you’re tired and really shouldn’t be up. You’ve come out of a twenty-four-hour shift, you need to rest.” He finally untangles his jeans from the leg of the bed where they had landed last night and goes searching for his shoes. “But what do you say, you come down to the station for lunch? Our schedules won’t fit until later in the week, but I don’t think I can go _that_ long without seeing you.”

Carlos nods, eyes drooping once again. “For the record, you know we have a dinner date _and_ a lunch date planned for this week, right?” he mumbles as he snuggles back down below the covers. “It’s not like you won’t be seeing me.”

TK doesn’t want to give voice to the thoughts that have been plaguing his mind lately — about how this would be the first lunch they share with the 126 family TK found for himself since they became official, and about how much their opinions mean to him. TK already knows they like Carlos alright, but he fears they won’t approve of him moving onto a serious relationship so soon after he disclosed his struggle to them.

This is still so _new_ that TK doesn’t want to share the glee he feels whenever he thinks of Carlos, whenever he lets himself to believe that they’re starting something _good_ together. And yet, he craves the approval of his family before he allows his heart to take that leap of faith and fall in love.

It’s too early for that, though, and he shudders at the mere thought of ever allowing someone _that_ deep into his soul. He may be thinking that Carlos could be the family he wants to come home to, in some uncertain distant future, but right now TK doesn’t think he’s ready for much more than what they have.

Even if Carlos loves teasing him about everything, as though they’ve known each other for eons instead of for some weeks.

“Oh, so you don’t want to come to have lunch with the guys today, huh?” TK teases Carlos instead, sauntering over his side of the bed, still half-naked. He bends over Carlos’ prone form, and stares for a second at his face, calm with sleep. “Noted.”

“Not like _that_ ,” Carlos mumbles. His words are becoming slurred again, and TK has to keep himself from leaning in and kissing his forehead. “Love seeing the guys too. Just—”

“Okay, sleepyhead, enough talking,” TK orders. “Just text me when you’re awake. Will be waiting for you.”

Carlos mutters something unintelligible as he falls back asleep, and TK finally gives in. He leans in and drops a soft kiss on Carlos’ hairline, his heart swelling with something akin to love as he watches his boyfriend’s chest heaving evenly. He shakes his head, withdrawing the hand that has gone up to Carlos’ face on its own volition, and finishes getting his clothes on before hailing an Uber to the station.

* * *

“Easy there, city boy,” Judd calls out as TK barrels into the changing room, phone in hand, staring at his screen with a smile on his face. “You’re going to run into a wall if you don’t stop looking at your phone.”

“Sorry,” TK says abashed. “Didn’t think.”

“Is it your loverboy?” Judd asks, peeking over TK’s shoulder when he turns around to face his locker. “About time you made up your mind, city boy.”

TK blushes. He purses his lips in a grimace before turning again and looking into Judd’s eyes. “I don’t know what—”

“Oh, c’mon, you know exactly what I mean,” Judd cuts him off as he takes a step back and opens his own locker. TK simply stares at him. “I know now that you’ve got a tougher time than most, but you got poor Reyes tagging along for _months_ before you even gave him a chance.”

“I didn’t!” TK protests heatedly, the blush spreading down to his neck. “Stop trying to make it look like I led him on!”

“Didn’t you?” Marjan pipes in, her head popping up behind the door. TK can tell she’s teasing him, and when he looks up at Judd once again, he can see a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Stop it, you two!” TK exclaims. “Behave! Carlos is coming down for lunch later today.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Marjan teases him with a big smile. She steps into the locker room, Mateo in tow, and TK can’t help but wondering if the younger boy has heard their conversation as well. There’s something intrinsically _wrong_ in the way TK feels whenever someone points out his behaviour in the months prior to him officially dating Carlos — like he _does_ believe he led Carlos on for weeks on end before deciding that Carlos was good enough for him.

As though Carlos could have been anything _but_.

That had never been an issue for TK, since he’s always known that Carlos was more than he deserved. His trouble comes when he stops to think that maybe _he_ isn’t enough for Carlos, and he fears the day Carlos wakes up and realizes that as well. TK doesn’t think he can survive another disaster of Alex proportions.

“Can someone tell him to stop thinking?” Paul intervenes from the door. TK scoffs. “Boy, you’re giving me a headache.”

“Why don’t you go find someone else to torture?” TK tries, but his words fall on deaf ears as his team crowd around him. “Guys!”

“What’s going on here?” 

Everyone turns around to face Captain Strand and TK thinks he’s saved until he sees the same naughty gleam he’s seen in Judd’s eyes. “You know what? I’m out of here,” he announces, closing his locker without having grabbed anything from it, and heads out of the room, followed by his team’s teasing calls.

Unluckily for him, they have to go on several back-to-back calls, and when they’re not actively putting off fires or rescuing someone trapped in construction work, TK can’t hear the end of the jokes his team has for him regarding his evident feelings toward Carlos. Even his father joins in with them from time to time, and TK’s torn between being happy that his father is feeling good enough to tease him and annoyed that his father is the captain and he doesn’t put a stop to their antics.

When they climb down from the truck after their latest call, TK is greeted with the sight of his boyfriend standing awkwardly in the middle of the firehouse, a wrapped-up package in his hands. TK jumps towards him, too busy getting rid of his helmet and everything else that might be on the way to pay attention to Judd already wolf-whistling. 

“You came,” he whispers as he approaches Carlos, already pivoting toward him as though Carlos is his gravity center. 

“Why do you act so surprised? I said I was coming,” Carlos greets him, but he doesn’t lean in to kiss TK. 

“What’s wrong?” TK asks when he tries to lean in for a peck and Carlos takes a barely noticeable step back. “Carlos?”

“Your whole team is watching,” Carlos tells him in a low voice, going in for a chaste hug instead. TK wants to smack him but he simply gives in to the hug. “I want to make a good first impression.”

“They already know you,” TK tells him with a sly smile that fades when he sees how Carlos is fidgeting in his spot. “Hey, hey, look at me, please,” he says, lifting up a soothing hand to Carlos’ cheek. He wouldn’t have thought that maybe Carlos would be going through the same mental freak out TK has been having for the past few hours over this very same issue, but it seems that he’s just been oblivious to Carlos’ nervousness as he always does. “It’ll be okay. They know you, and they already like you. It’s no big deal.”

“Too late for that,” Carlos says, looking over TK’s shoulder. “It kinda feels like it, for me.”

Before TK can reply, Judd is sauntering over where they’re awkwardly standing — TK’s arms halfway around Carlos’ waist — and he’s talking even before he reaches them. “What do you have in there, Reyes?” he asks.

“It’s a surprise,” Carlos manages to say. TK can tell he’s almost choking on his own words. He doesn’t understand how he’s been so blind that he’s missed Carlos’ anxiety regarding the whole lunch today — and then he realizes that Carlos has tried to get himself out of it earlier this morning, and TK has just dismissed his feelings thinking Carlos was being difficult because he was still half asleep.

He could kick himself for being so oblivious.

“Must be really good,” Marjan comes up after Judd, followed by Mateo. Paul remains next to the truck, feigning a disinterest TK knows he actually doesn’t feel at all. “You have to keep us content and win us over with that Latin charm, officer.”

“Oh, I know,” Carlos finally replies, getting back some of his usual confidence and smiling warmly at her. “That’s why I brought my family’s secret recipe’s _tamales_.”

The chorus of excited squeals is all TK needs to hear to know that Carlos is going to be fine — even if he’s bribing TK’s team with tamales that, by the way, Carlos has yet to make for him _again_. “It’s been way too long,” he whispers before losing Carlos to the fuss his teammates are making. 

“I promise I’ll make you my ma’s tamales soon,” Carlos whispers back before allowing Judd to whisk him away.

TK simply chuckles and follows them.

* * *

“—so that’s how Grace and I met,” Judd is saying when TK comes back to the table from the kitchenette, two plates full of tamales in his hands. 

“You mean, that’s how you fooled her into dating you,” Marjan teases, eliciting a laugh out Carlos, who’s currently sitting between Paul and Owen. TK gets distracted for a second at the sound. He almost makes it to the table with the plates intact, but Mateo sneaks up on him and steals one with his bare hands.

“Mateo!” he complains, but he’s slow on the uptake and Mateo gets away with his mischief. “Come back here!”

“Too late for that!” Mateo says laughing as he sits back, munching on the food that’s already disassembling in his hands. “Ugh.”

“Serves you well for stealing food,” Carlos admonishes him as he stands up to help TK with the plates. “Judd, you were saying you’re planning a big surprise for your anniversary?”

TK sits down beside his father, watching as his boyfriend engages in the jokes and the conversations going on around them. His heart swells up with pride at the way Carlos has just slid into their dynamics easily, as though he’s been part of the family all along. Even with Michelle out of the station on her day off — because her presence might have soothed Carlos’ nerves a little bit — he doesn’t seem to have had any trouble fitting into TK’s found family.

“Oh yeah,” Judd explains. TK watches as he stretches out to grab the plates and serves himself under the scrutiny of Carlos’ gaze as well. Judd munches on before saying, “I’ve been saving up all my vacation days, and I plan on getting her to New York. So I’ve thought, kiddo, that you and Cap might have some recommendations to make?”

“I bet TK has a few!” his father starts. “Why don’t you come over later? Then you can talk about it.”

TK stares at his father in disbelief. “Uhm, yeah, thanks for checking if I don’t have plans already or whatever, _Dad_ ,” he deadpans. 

“Well, do you?” his father asks, but he’s looking straight at Carlos, as though challenging him. Carlos ducks his head — TK can see from the corner of his eye that his boyfriend is holding off a smile — and shakes his head. “See? All set!”

“Fine,” TK mumbles. “I _do_ have several places you should totally check when you’re there. When are you flying out?”

“The anniversary is next week, so I bought plane tickets for that same day. You know, a big surprise and all that,” Judd tells him. 

“She’s going to love it,” Marjan confirms. “She’s been talking about going to New York ever since I first met her.”

“I know, it’s going to be amazing,” Judd nods as well. “Problem is, even if my sister-in-law is dropping us at the airport, she can’t pick us up. I guess we’ll have to take a cab,” he complains. 

“That sucks, man,” TK says. “I could go pick you up if I’m free, but I’d have to call an Uber.”

“Awww, TK, that’s so sweet,” Marjan mocks him. Paul snickers as TK shoots him a glare. “Trying to be good for your older brother?”

“Shut up, Marjan,” TK mumbles.

“It’s okay, we’ll find a way,” Judd keeps talking. TK knows that, except Mateo and Carlos, no one else in their little family has a car — his father’s is in the workshop, and Paul and Marjan don’t drive anymore around Austin.

“When are you flying back?” Carlos surprises everyone by speaking up. 

“Friday following week,” Judd says, pursing his lips. “Wait, why?”

“I’ll pick you up at the airport,” Carlos speaks the words with ease, as though he knows he’ll be free that day, as though he means to say that he’ll do everything in his power to actually be free. “Just say the date, and I’ll be there.”

“Really, man?” Judd nods enthusiastically. “That’d be a huge favor, I’d owe you one!”

“Don’t even mention it.”

TK looks at Carlos with a frown. He doesn’t know what has compelled his boyfriend to offer his blue Camaro as a cab ride for Judd and Grace — not that he’s complaining, not at all, because it’s such a sweet gesture on his part, and a way to win Judd’s heart. He opens his mouth to say something, but whatever snide remark he’s about to make gets cut off when the sirens start blasting and they have to get ready for an emergency.

“I’ll finish here,” Carlos tells him when TK turns toward him before exiting the room, the last one of the team. “Go work.” As TK won’t stop staring at him, he says, cautiously, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” TK says slowly. “I just. Thanks,” he blurts out. “For offering your help to Judd. You can’t possibly know how much that means to him.” He fails to tell his boyfriend that the gesture has meant much to _him_ as well.

Carlos smiles. “Don’t even mention it, cariño,” he repeats, standing up and grabbing some dishes. “Just. Call me when you’re done, okay? Let me know you’re fine.”

“I will,” TK promises before jogging towards Carlos and kissing his cheek. “Talk to you later!” 

He rushes out of the room and into the hall, where his team is already getting into their boots. “C’mon, loverboy!” Paul calls out. “Get ready to save lives!”

TK simply laughs and jumps into the truck, putting on his helmet as the engine revs and they’re off to the next emergency on their shift.


	2. while the world turns red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [911 Lone Star Week](https://911lonestarweek.tumblr.com/), **Day 2: Great Dynamics**. The prompt was _I'll be by yourside_ , and I've combined it with _53\. “Sit down, I'll get it”_ given to me by [manesalex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manesalex/profile) from the [100 ways to say I love you](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/613502094751776768/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you) prompt list from a while ago.
> 
> Chapter title comes from _I Don't Want To Go Home_ by Hanson.
> 
>  **Warnings for the chapter include:** mentions of chemo sessions, mentions of cancer, angst, teasing, fluff to angst

“Itʼs been the best anniversary of them all,” Grace is gushing in the backseat, sandwiched between Juddʼs larger frame and one of her handbags that didn’t fit into the trunk of the Camaro. “I donʼt think Iʼll ever forget about it. And that little bistro you recommended, TK, it was to die for.” 

“Iʼm glad youʼve enjoyed yourself so much,” TK tells her, turning around to face her as much as the small space inside the car allows him to. “You two deserved a break.” 

“Yeah, that we did,” Judd agrees with a small smile. “Carlos, have I thanked you for coming to pick us up at the airport? Because itʼs a huge favor I owe you.” 

Carlos merely shrugs, eyes on the road ahead. TK knows Austinʼs roads arenʼt that busy so early in the morning — he still doesn’t understand how Judd managed to book flights that landed back home at five-thirty in the morning — but there have been some works that have turned driving around town more of a nightmare than it already was. 

“How did he convince you to be here at such time?” Grace asks with a laugh that fills the space. “And more importantly, why did you come along, TK? I thought you had today off as well?” 

TK has wondered the same thing for hours now. While Carlos has had the day off, TK has just got off a shift and he’s jumped into Carlos’ car straight away to go pick his friends up at the airport, just like his boyfriend promised.

It has been a decision on a whim, and now TK is regretting it with a passion as exhaustion creeps over him and makes him groggy as he watches back through the windshield. “I wanted to be a good friend,” he says with a smile he knows neither Judd nor Grace can see. “And an even better boyfriend.”

“I’m pretty sure you will be rewarded later,” Grace points out, an evident leer in her voice that makes TK both cringes and feels a warmth spread through his body.

“Ugh, darling, I didn’t need _that_ image now, thank you,” Judd quips in. TK turns around in time to watch him scrunching up his nose in fake disgust. At least he hopes it’s fake. 

“Serves you well for roping them both into picking us up at the airport when they could be doing other things on their day off.”

“Told you, I didn’t rope anyone! Carlos offered!”

“I’m not buying it for a second!”

“I did, ma’am,” Carlos intervenes with a lopsided smile as he pulls up next to their house. “Judd said he needed help, and I live to serve.”

“Oh, now I know you’re full of shit,” Grace jokes. TK opens his door when the car halts and gets out so he can move the seat and allow her to get out of the car. “You never ever _ma’am_ me again, Reyes,” she threatens as she jumps out of the vehicle.

Carlos is smirking back at her from the other side of the car, and TK is momentarily blinded by the light that seems to radiate off him. It reminds TK to that night when they helped Paul, and it makes him think that there’s a theme going on here — Carlos is always putting TK first, always stepping out of his way to help TK’s friends, while TK runs into a burning building. Or running _from_ Carlos instead of _towards_ him. 

“Thanks again, man,” Judd says, offering Carlos a manly side hug. “It would have been a pain in the ass to find a cab back home at that ungodly hour.” 

“Anytime,” Carlos laughs, but it sounds like a promise to TKʼs ears while heʼs taking the suitcases out of the trunk. He stops to hide the way exhaustion is creeping up on his eyelids, making them heavier than ever. “Now, go rest.” 

“You too,” Grace orders them. She grabs her suitcase with one hand and leans in to drop a kiss on TKʼs cheek. “You look dead on your feet.” 

“See you next shift, Judd,” TK says as farewell, not even trying to hide the yawn finding its way through his words. 

“I hope to see you on our next family barbecue,” Grace tells them as she waves them goodbye, Carlos helping TK back into the car. TK nods before the door is closed and heʼs alone inside the car for as long as it takes Carlos to open the driverʼs door and hop in. 

“Grace is right, you look worse for the wear,” he points out when TK leans against the window and closes his eyes. “We havenʼt even had the time to talk about your day,” he continues, but TK feels himself drifting away to slumber, so he tries to say something. 

It comes out strangled and jumbled together, a slur of words that has Carlos chuckling. TK cracks one eye open and tries to glare at his boyfriend, but he’s too tired. “Find it funny?” he manages to grumble before closing his eyes again and getting cozy against the door, arms crossed over his chest.

“Get some sleep, tiger,” he hears Carlos say, but it sounds too far away. TK snuggles further into his jacket and allows sleep to claim over him.

He wakes up with a start when the car comes to a halt, and when he opens his eyes again he realizes they’re outside the house he shares with his father. He blinks slowly, getting himself into a sitting position and glances over at Carlos, who’s loosely slumped over the wheel staring back at him. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Shut it,” he mumbles, swatting a hand at him. “What are we doing here? I thought—”

“You were dead to the world, TK,” Carlos explains. “I thought you’d rather sleep in your own bed, for a change.”

“You know I’d always choose you,” TK says, cheesy as it sounds, because he’s sleepy and he certainly was expecting to fall asleep at eight-forty in the morning surrounded by his boyfriend’s arms.

“I know,” Carlos acquiesces. “But I believe it’s good for you to go inside and get some rest. We both know if I take you to mine that’s not going to happen.”

TK nods slightly. He’s aware of the odds of them getting actual sleep if they end up sharing Carlos’ bed, and although he usually is up for that kind of activity, right now he feels like he could sleep for days. “It’s been quite a shift.”

“You just got out of a twenty-four-hour shift and got what, an hour of sleep?” Carlos pinpoints. “I still don’t know why you wanted to come pick Judd and Grace up at the airport. I could have dropped you home and you could have caught up on some sleep.”

TK doesn’t have an answer to that. It’s been an impulse, something he’s done because he’s felt like it — not thinking about the consequences. He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to tell Carlos that he misses him the very second they part ways — the moment TK leaves Carlos’ house or when they kiss goodbye after a shared lunch at that food truck Carlos loves so much. TK misses Carlos every waking moment of the day, and when he’s asleep he dreams of his boyfriend.

He’s scared of how much he depends on Carlos, and he wishes he could fight his own tendency to latch himself to whoever he’s dating, almost forgetting about himself. He promised himself that he would try to be his own person — find out who he really is without anyone telling him how to behave — and at the first chance he’s got he’s jumped right into the arms of another guy. A very handsome, very nice officer in Austin, Texas, of all places.

Sometimes he isn’t sure if he knows how to be himself without watching himself through someone else’s eyes.

“How about you get inside and sleep, and I pick you later on to have lunch?” Carlos offers when TK doesn’t say anything. “What time does your shift starts? Four?”

TK nods. “Not everyone’s lucky enough to have _two_ days off in a row,” he teases. “I still can’t believe you had to switch shifts with López and Whitman to get today off as well.”

“Wouldn’t miss my niece’s birthday for anything,” Carlos smiles. “Now, off you go. I’ll pick you up at one for a late lunch, then?”

TK’s nodding his consent when he glances over at the clock blinking in the console and realizes two things. The first thing is that today his father’s got a chemo appointment that might take their whole morning, and he might have a chance at sleeping if Wayne isn’t scheduled at the same time as they are.

The second thing he realizes is that he’s terribly late.

He jumps forward, gathering himself before trying to open the door frantically. He almost doesn’t register Carlos’ voice asking, “TK, what’s wrong?”

“I’m late,” he almost exclaims, fumbling with the handle which just doesn’t want to cooperate. 

“Late? For what?”

“I forgot we have chemo today,” he explains as he fights the door. “Damned door!”

“Does your father have chemo?” Carlos asks, and TK wants to call him out on his stupidity, because they’re going to be late and he’s been taking his father’s sessions seriously. He doesn’t want to slack on this particular issue — he needs to show his father that he can be trusted.

That his father can count on him.

He finally manages to open the door and almost flies out of the car before realizing that Carlos is staring at him. He stops dead in his track and turns his head around. “I’m sorry about this,” he excuses himself. “I don’t think I’ll make it to lunch today.”

“It’s okay,” Carlos reassures him with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. TK wants to wipe what can only be described as a grimace off Carlos’ face. “Go help your father. I’ll be waiting here for you guys.”

TK blows a kiss Carlos’ way and rushes out of the car, barely understanding what his boyfriend has just said, closing the door more forcefully than intended. He cringes at the sound but he really has no time to waste — he can already see his father through the kitchen windows, going about the space as though he’s making breakfast. When he enters the house, he can hear his father calling out to him, “TK, are you home?”

“Yeah, sorry I was late,” he excuses himself as he steps into the kitchen. “Let me call an Uber.”

“An Uber?” his father asks. TK finally sees him, holding a glass of orange juice and sporting a confused look. “I thought your boy was going to give us a lift?” he continues, pointing his thumb over his shoulder and out into the street.

“What?” TK almost screeches, looking out the window. And there he sees Carlos, leaning against the blue Camaro instead of having driven away to his home to get some sleep before he has to go get ready for his niece’s seventh birthday in the afternoon. At one point Carlos looks up and stares right into TK’s surprised gaze, startling him. Then it dawns on him, the words Carlos has said right as TK was leaving the car. “I didn’t ask him to—”

“You know you don’t have to, right?” his father tells him, downing the juice in one long gulp and setting the glass in the sink. “Your boy is a kind soul.”

“He’s always this attentive,” TK agrees. “But he really doesn’t have to. I mean, we just dropped Judd and Grace from the airport, and he should rest before he’s got to play hide and seek with children the whole afternoon.”

“I’m not going to try and understand what that means. Have you slept, even?”

“It’s his niece’s birthday today,” TK explains. He walks out briefly to gather his father’s hospital bag from the foyer, motioning for him to move. “Dad, we’re going to be late to your chemo session. I should have come home right after shift, but I kinda thought Carlos would want me to go with him. I’ll catch up on sleep if Wayne doesn’t come in today. I can’t if he’s trying to set me up with his grandson’s best friend’s brother.”

“Let’s go, then, before Officer Reyes gets bored of waiting on us,” his father says, striding out of the kitchen and into the foyer where TK is standing weirdly, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. 

TK wants to tell his father to stop calling Carlos that, but he realizes that his dad has never called any of his boyfriends by their given names except for Alex — _and look how that turned out to be_ , his traitorous mind supplies. TK understands the need to keep a distance, to set up some boundaries, because he is actively trying to distance himself from feeling too much, from falling too hard, from giving too much of himself. 

Again, his traitorous mind tells him that all that sounds suspiciously like _sabotage_.

* * *

“Will you please stop it, son?” his father says for what sounds like the umpteenth time, and if the tired tone in his voice is anything to go by, TK has the feeling that his father’s becoming fed up with him. “It’s the third time you’ve rummaged through that bag searching for God knows what.”

They have the whole room for themselves, much to TK’s mirth. He certainly didn’t want to share the morning after a long shift and little sleep with Wayne, of all people. But ever since they arrived — on time, thanks to Carlos’ impeccable knowledge of the city and his driving skills — TK hasn’t been able to close his eyes. He feels like he’s constantly on edge, eyes flickering from his father, hooked to the machine giving him the poison that will save him, to his boyfriend, sitting on an uncomfortable chair next to TK’s. Both are chatting animatedly, as though they’ve known each other for years instead of a few weeks, and TK can’t help but compare the scene to the nervousness Carlos was showing a few days back when he went to have their first lunch as a couple at the station.

Carlos is much more at ease now, and while TK’s happy that his boyfriend seems to fit in TK’s life, he is a bit bothered by the fact that his father and his boyfriend have teamed up to tease him. 

“I can’t find the damned bottle,” he complains. “I swear I put it inside.”

“Last time I saw you next to that bag,” his father points out, “I don’t think you were putting anything inside.”

“I’ll go grab a bottle of water from the machine,” TK announces, bouncing to his feet and almost tripping on the bag. Carlos stands up just in time to catch him before he falls, face first, onto the floor. “Ooof.”

“Sit down,” Carlos orders, pushing him towards the chair and almost forcing him down. “I’ll get it.”

“No,” he tells his boyfriend. “I can do it.”

“Tyler,” Carlos says then, warningly, and somehow that makes TK see red.

And he will blame it on exhaustion later on — on the infinitesimal chance that he’s so sleep deprived that his mouth doesn’t catch up with his brain fast enough for him to form a coherent thought — but Carlos calling him by his given name adds up to the fact that they were joking about him and TK isn’t really in the mood to be bossed around _after_ they both have been making fun of how he liked to dress when he was fifteen. Even if that conversation is part of his mission to make Carlos feel welcome in TK’s family dynamics.

“No,” TK says stubbornly. “I’m not a child, I can go on my own to the machine and bring back water.”

“Tyler, you’re dead on your feet. You’ve almost fallen down to the ground just by standing up,” Carlos tries to reason. “Sit down. I’ll go get it.”

“Seriously, I think I know if I’m able or not to _walk_ across the hall,” he insists, trying to push past Carlos.

“Please, let me do this for you.”

TK snaps, unable to stop himself, even if he regrets the harsh tone with which his words leave his mouth. “You’ve done enough, today,” he deadpans, getting finally past Carlos’ barrier. “I’ll go.”

He doesn’t miss the fleeting flash of hurt that crosses Carlos’ eyes as his words sink in, and he wishes he could take them back, but it’s too late. Carlos hums, stance guarded in a way he’s almost never been around TK, and says, “You’re right. You can do it without me.” TK blinks as he can see tears pooling in Carlos’ eyes. “I’m sorry, sir, but I have to go. I hope the rest of the session goes well,” he wishes in a voice that’s half a mutter and a quarter of a sob. “I’ll leave you now.”

“No, wait, Carlos,” TK tries to explain himself, but Carlos is already grabbing his wallet and his phone, which he had left around next to Owen, and turning for the door. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Carlos reassures him, with that smile that once again doesn’t reach his eyes, and TK wants to smack himself. “I should get going anyway. I can’t be late for Mia’s birthday party.”

“You can’t let your own goddaughter down,” Owen says, and TK wants to shoot him a dirty glance but when he meets his father’s eyes all he can see is steel. “It’s been good having you here, Officer. Thanks again for the ride.”

“Please call me Carlos, sir.”

“Only if you drop the _sir_ , Carlos.”

Carlos’ smile grows a bit wider, but TK can tell it’s still sad. “It’s been nice seeing you, Owen,” he drawls out, making a show of the name. “Now I really should get going.”

“Carlos, wait!” TK tries to stop him, but Carlos is already out of the door. TK covers the distance in two long strides and grasps Carlos’ wrist before he can fully disappear. “Wait. Please.”

“It’s okay,” Carlos tells him once again, but this time he’s not really looking at him — he’s looking somewhere close enough to TK’s face to make it look like he’s staring into his eyes, but TK knows Carlos better. 

“At least tell me we’ll talk later.” TK all but pleads when Carlos manages to free himself from his grip.

“We’ll talk later,” Carlos says weakly, nodding. He turns around and walks down the hallway while TK remains standing in the doorway, feeling as though he’s done something irremediably wrong.

“What were you thinking, son?” his father calls out. His voice is weak because the chemo is already taking effect, but TK hears the deceive in it all the same. “That’s no way to treat your boyfriend.”

“I said I was sorry,” TK excuses himself as he turns around to face his father. “And he said it was okay.”

“And you believe that?” his father pats the armchair, signaling TK to move the chair closer to him. “Did you believe, for just a second, that saying _you’ve done enough_ could be taken lightly in this context?”

“I meant well!”

“I know, son, but it came out wrong,” his father admonishes him. “You should apologize. I don’t know what you’re doing here. You should be running after him.”

TK sighs. This is one of his worst nightmares coming to life — pushing Carlos away with enough force that he won’t come back anytime soon — but it’s also something he’s been not-so-subtly attempting to do. Maybe he’s been sabotaging himself, because where he should feel a void and a dread creeping up inside him at the thought of Carlos leaving them sad and angry, TK just feels _relieved_.

“Relieved?” 

When his father repeats that, TK realizes he’s been speaking out loud. “I didn’t mean it like that, dad.”

“Tyler Kennedy,” his father begins in his most stern voice. “What are you playing at? I thought you were done with lies after Alex.”

“I haven’t been lying to him,” TK explains half-heartedly. “He knows I want to take it slow.”

“Half-truths sting the same as lies, son,” his father tells him. TK finally sits down and hides his face in his hands. “How long have you been pushing him away? He’s been showing how much he loves you time and time again.”

“He hasn’t,” TK insists. “We haven’t even said the words.”

“He doesn’t have to,” his father shakes his head at him. “Or did you really think that Carlos was eager to wake up in the middle of the night to pick Judd and Grace up at the airport the night before his niece’s birthday?”

“He likes Judd! And he’s a great guy!”

“I agree with that, but he also offered because he knew it would mean a lot to you. TK, Judd is like your older brother. Carlos feels the need to be in his good graces.”

“Dad—”

“Don’t interrupt me,” his father scowls. “And this morning? After the night he’s had, the night you’ve both had, he straight away waited to give us a ride to the hospital so I wasn’t late to my appointment. And not only that, TK, he’s stayed. He’s been distracting me with his jokes while you’ve been there brooding because we were—”

“Ganging up on me!”

His father shoots him his best _Owen Strand Trademarked Glare_ , to which TK has been subjected for years, and effectively shuts him up. “TK, I love you,” he begins. “But youʼve been hurt and youʼre wary of feeling too much too soon. I know you, you’re my son. But you have to be careful. Carlos has been patient, but if you want this to work you need to give something back.” 

“I am! And Carlos agreed to take it slow,” TK feels the need to explain himself, for his father doesn’t seem quite understanding. “You canʼt possibly be telling me to jump up at the chance of fucking up the one good thing to ever happen to me.” 

Once the words make it past his lips, TK lifts a hand to cover his mouth. He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but heʼs suffering from a severe case of loose tongue today. He truly believes Carlos is the best thing in his life, even if heʼs scared shitless of whatever they have going on. TK isn’t willing to label it so soon, even if he was the one to initiate this thing between them after the night of the solar storm. Theyʼre a good team, heʼs convinced of that. Heʼs been calling Carlos his boyfriend in his head. Heʼs almost ready to fully believe he can have this happiness. 

Maybe the problem is that heʼs only acknowledged his own feelings in his mind. Never out loud. 

Out loud, TK has always dismissed Carlosʼ efforts to grow closer, to actually take that step into becoming something else, something _more_. TK has always taken whatever Carlos was giving him for granted, believing that Carlos will always be there for him. 

And now, heʼs sitting in a chair at a chemo session room with his father taped to a machine, having the biggest realization of his whole life. 

“Iʼm not telling you to fall into bed with him, although I have the feeling thatʼs already happened several times,” his father winks at him. “What I want you to realize is that Carlos loves you and Iʼm sure you love him. You just have different ways to say it.” 

“Maybe I don’t know how to say it,” TK whispers. “Maybe I am not ready at all, and I have been leading him on and—” 

“Or maybe youʼre just freaking out,” his father cuts him off again. “Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone hurts the ones they love. How we make it up to them is what counts, TK.”

TK lifts his head and looks straight into his fatherʼs eyes, finding only compassion and understanding. “And how do I go about it? I donʼt think heʼll want to listen to me.” 

“Well, you first need to get some quality sleep,” his father tells him softly. “And then, go on your shift. It would be ideal if you could drop by his nieceʼs party, but I doubt itʼll still be on by the time youʼre out.”

“Do you think heʼd want me there?” 

His father chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re really one of a kind. Why else would he have dropped that same topic once and again, in every other sentence heʼs said today? It was his way of telling you that it was important to him.” 

TK nods. He can do it — despite his seemingly oblivious attitude, heʼs been paying attention. He has an idea about where Carlosʼ sister lives and he knows the party will be starting a couple of hours before his shift begins. He can totally make it. But he canʼt go empty-handed, and heʼs having a queasy feeling about crashing the party and introducing himself to Carlosʼ family for the first time. 

“Why donʼt you go to Carlosʼ and see where that leads you?” his father suggests. 

“But to get there in time, I should leave now,” he complains. “I told you I was going to be by your side this whole process. Iʼm not leaving.” 

“Oh, yes, you are,” heʼs told. TK glares at his father, who is unfazed. “I’ll be fine, son. Just go on and tell your boy that you love him.” 

TK shakes his head in disbelief. He knows he loves Carlos, but he has never been good at saying so — heʼs great at grand gestures, not so much at the soft-spoken part of declarations. And heʼs afraid Carlos wonʼt even open the door. 

“Go!” his father commands. 

TK shoots up from the chair, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, before nodding. “Promise youʼll be okay?” 

His father laughs. “I will, donʼt you worry about me. Just donʼt be late to work.” 

“I canʼt make such a promise,” he jokes. But he grabs his jacket and rushes out the door, not before casting one last glance to his father, who salutes him jokingly. 

He knows exactly what he wants to do, but he isn’t sure whether or not it’ll be successful.


	3. lost in the memory half forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, you said? 
> 
> I apologize in advance for the rollercoaster ride you're getting into with this chapter. Please heed the warnings from now on, because we're entering ANGST LAND from today on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [911 Lone Star Week](https://911lonestarweek.tumblr.com/), **Day 4: Action & Adventures**. The prompt was _What’s Your Emergency?_ , and I've combined it with _83\. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”_ from the [100 ways to say I love you](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/613502094751776768/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you) prompt list from a while ago.
> 
> Chapter title comes from _Home_ by Green River Ordinance.
> 
>  **Warnings for the chapter include:** accidents, blood, angst like whoa

His head hurts as though he’s slammed it against a brick wall. TK blinks awake to a pounding headache and the feeling of his world being upended in the worst way possible. He tries lifting a hand to his face to rub the ache away from his temple, but his fingers encounter something sticky on his forehead. He pokes at it and withdraws his hand, holding it in front of his eyes. His sight isn’t focusing, but he wants to see what’s going on. He _needs_ to know why he feels like he’s upside down.

His fingers are coated in red.

He groans.

“What the hell?” he says, a whisper that reverberates inside his skull. He closes his eyes briefly before centering himself once again. He has to assess the situation. He has to see what’s happened. He is a first responder. He should know what to do.

He can’t move.

He hears another groan coming from the front part of the car, or what he thinks it’s the front, because when he looks around he realizes nothing is where it’s supposed to be. The first thing he notices is that he’s hanging from his seatbelt, upside down — his first impression was right. The second thing he realizes is that he’s covered in broken glass and dried blood — which is good, because that means he isn’t bleeding anymore, but also bad, because that isn’t any indication that there isn’t internal bleeding. And the third thing he realizes is that there is a blank when he tries to remember how he’s got into this position in the first place.

“Ugh,” he hears, the groan from before coming louder. “Are you awake?”

“Who’s that?” he asks, trying to reach out toward the voice. If he’s in a car, he’s most definitely the passenger — he hasn’t even attempted to drive ever since they moved to Austin — so that sound has to come from the driver. 

He’s not alone in the car.

That’s when his instincts finally kick in. 

“Don’t panic,” he commands as he struggles with the seatbelt. He can’t break free. “Damn it!”

“What happened?” the driver says. “I can’t get out of here!”

There’s a smell crawling up, making him crinkle his nose in disgust. It takes a second for the smell to sink in, but when he recognizes it his attempts to break free from the seatbelt become more frantic. He feels sharp ache cutting through him in one of his movements, and his head begins to spin. “Can you move at all?” he asks, wrestling with the belt that keeps stubbornly keeping him from escaping the car. 

“I’m trapped!”

He sighs, stopping his movement as he gives up. “Yeah, me too,” he whispers, fishing for his phone that he remembers he placed in his back pocket before entering the car. His memories are fuzzy — he thinks he might have a concussion — but he knows what he has to do. He might not know where he is, but if he punches the right buttons and gets his phone on long enough, someone might be able to track his position and find them.

The dial tone is deafening when he approaches the phone to his ear.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” he hears, instantly missing Grace’s voice. Through the haze, his mind supplies the information that she’s just back from some vacation in New York City. She won’t be coming in to work until at least another day. “Hello?”

“There’s been an accident,” he manages to mutter, his voice coming out shaky. “We’ve been in a car accident.”

“Can you tell me where you are, sir?”

“I—I don’t know,” he has to push his words out of his throat. Aside from his evident injuries and bleeding wounds, scattered all over his body even if he can’t feel all of them, there’s a tightness in his chest; the last thing he needs now is for another injury to his already bruised lungs, not even a full couple of months after being shot. “I don’t remember anything. I just woke up, and we’re upside down.”

“Do you remember where you were going, sir?”

He bites his lip to keep a panicked wail out as he tries to move and a stinging pain crosses his chest. “I was going to—I was—” He shakes his head to clear it, but he only manages to make it hurt more. “I’m TK Strand,” he manages to grit out. “I’m a firefighter at the 126. Please.”

He isn’t sure what he’s pleading for — if it’s for help or for understanding or for a voice to wade with him through the pain he’s feeling — but it works.

“TK, I’ve got your location. I’m sending help right now. Just hold on. We’re coming.”

He manages to whisper his assent, punching his way through ending the call despite the voice at the other side telling him not to hang up, because he needs to make another call. 

He scrolls with bloodied fingers through his screen until he finds the name heʼs looking for. He regrets not having it on speed dial. He regrets so many things right now, so much that heʼs suffocating on his own guilt. 

He wants to make amends before the cold threatening him spreads fully through his system. 

“TK?” Carlos answers after the first tone, voice breathy as though heʼs rushed to pick up the phone. He doesn’t have enough strength to reply, so he breathes heavily against the microphone. “TK, are you there?” 

“Carlos,” he whispers, his voice powering through his pain. 

He can tell the second Carlos realizes something’s really wrong, his voice thatʼs usually warm and calm spikes up and becomes broken. “What’s wrong, TK? Where are you?” 

“I—I don’t know, Carlos.” Speaking hurts; breathing hurts. He doesn’t understand whatʼs happening to him, but he knows he doesn’t want to be alone. 

He’s aware of the mistake heʼs made before — has it really been less than a day? — and he knows he should apologize. He knows he doesn’t deserve Carlosʼ forgiveness, but that doesn’t keep him from wishing he wasnʼt alone in a wrecked car right now. 

He might not have enough time left, from the feeling thatʼs crawling up his spine, to actually tell Carlos everything he needs to say. 

“Carlos,” he repeats. “Please. I donʼt—I don’t know.” 

“Stay there,” Carlos says forcefully. He can hear the rustle of clothes, and belatedly he remembers Carlos is supposed to be at his nieceʼs party. 

“Carlos,” he whines. There’s a pressure on his side he can’t stand any longer. “It hurts.”

“I’m coming to get you, TK,” Carlos promises, but it’s falling into deaf ears.

He can only hear the rushing of the blood leaving his system as his conscience begins to falter. He blacks out for a second, and when he comes back to, he doesn’t know how much time has passed. He’s only aware of Carlos’ panicked voice coming from the tiny device in his hand.

“TK, TK, talk to me. Please, talk to me. Don’t—Don’t close your eyes, okay? I’m coming to get you, Ty. I promise. Just—just stay with me.”

But he can’t hold his grip on the phone any longer. He can’t hold his grip on reality. He’s losing conscience as the pain engulfs him whole, and when he loosens his fingers around the cell and it drops, he drops with it.

“TK!”

Everything becomes black once again.

* * *

There are loud sounds surrounding him when he comes to again with a groan that reverberates through his battered body. He blinks but when he opens his eyes the bright lights blind him so he chooses to close them again and welcome the darkness — in the darkness he may be lost but he doesn’t have the feeling of failing he usually has when he’s in the light. 

“TK?” he hears, Marjan’s voice filling his ears. He wants to look straight into her eyes, but he’s suddenly exhausted. “TK, weʼre here. Can you hear me?” 

He wants to scream that he is in pain, but he remembers right in time his driver. “Iʼm not alone,” he chokes out. He still feels the tightness in his chest, and the pressure only grows as he tries to speak. “The driver—” 

“Paul and Mateo are with him,” comes Juddʼs voice. “Let us do our job.” 

“Judd?” he asks, confused. Judd should be home, resting from his trip, enjoying his last day of freedom before having to come back to work. “What—” 

“Donʼt talk,” Marjan commands. “Iʼm not going to lie to you, TK, this is bad. Like, _you getting shot_ bad.” 

The dread pools in his gut once again. He notices he doesn’t feel anything except for the pain in his chest — he canʼt feel his arms, he canʼt feel his legs. He can’t feel _anything_. There’s a gushing sound ringing in his ears, as though something in him is leaking. He wishes he could bring his hand to his belly, where he can _feel_ a gaping wound pouring blood from his veins to the floor of the wrecked car.

He starts to panic. 

“Hey, hey,” Judd tells him, crouching so heʼs at his same level. “Calm down. Weʼre getting you out of here, I promise. Youʼll be fine.” 

“I don’t feel anything,” he manages to exclaim, his lungs almost giving up under the pressure of whatever weight he’s crushing under and the panic he’s feeling. “I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel my hands, I can’t—I can’t—”

“Breath deep,” Judd commands, voice steady. He wishes he could follow through with the order, but he can’t focus long enough and breathing hurts. “I know it hurts,” Judd says, as though he’s been talking out loud. “TK, you need to calm down. We’re going to use the jaws of life, we’re getting you out of here, and we’re going to let Michelle patch you up as best as she can so you can reach the hospital. But we can’t do any of that if you don’t cooperate. Please. Let us take you out of this. We’ll panic together later.”

He nods feebly. His head is spinning once again, and he can feel himself slipping into the darkness. But he needs to be awake — if anything, that’s what he remembers now from his years of training — so he fights to keep his eyelids open and he searches around for something to use as an anchor. The wreckage is consistent around him, debris and metal pooling around as his family works their way toward him, and all he can hear is the whirring noise of the machines barrelling to reach him.

“I need to see him!” he hears in the distance, a voice he knows from his dreams. “Let me through, dammit, Mateo, I _need_ to see him!”

“Carlos,” Mateo says, and that voice sounds too far away to his ears. “Carlos, he’s in good hands. Let Judd and Marjan work, okay? They’re going to get him out. Why don’t you go over there and wait with Captain Strand? I promise I’ll go update you.”

He wants to tell Carlos that he’ll be alright now that Carlos has arrived, that everything will be fine. That he loves Carlos. That he can’t imagine a life without Carlos, or a life where Carlos doesn’t have _him_.

He’s beginning to think that maybe they’re way too close to finding out what kind of life that would be.

“Carlos,” he mumbles, syllables broken and stuttery as he wrestles unsuccessfully against the seatbelt. “Carlos.”

“We’ll get you to him, loverboy,” Marjan promises as Judd swears under his breath, and he knows they’re going to have a difficult time getting him out, because he can already feel the cold spreading once again, and all he wants to do is tell Carlos that he wishes things had gone differently. He wishes he’d been different. He wishes he’d been _better_.

All he wants to do is say goodbye to Carlos.

“There’s no need for that,” Judd admonishes him as Marjan manages to break a path for them to free him from his restraints. “No need to say goodbye to _anyone_ today, loverboy. You can trust me on that.”

“Shit, I need to cut this rebar,” Marjan whispers to Judd, but it’s loud enough for him to hear it. “We’ll need to extract him with it attached. He’ll bleed out if I try to take it out.”

He wants to ask what rebar they’re talking about, but the noise of another jarring machine fills his ears and he wishes he were deaf. They work for what feels like eons until Judd reaches out and he can feel a warm hand pushing back the wild locks blocking his sight. “You’re so brave, loverboy. You’re really brave. We’re taking you out of here, but it will hurt like a bitch. Just power through it, okay? You’ll be fine, I promise.”

He takes in a shaky breath and nods his head, but the simple movement spikes another rush of pain, and it’s more than he can take. He whines out loud, crying hot tears as the pain doesn’t recede, and falls forward when all of a sudden the seatbelt is cut off. He lands on a gurney, softer than whatever surface he’d have hit anyway, and he feels nimble hands helping him turn around on his side, setting up an IV, pumping some fluids inside his body. There’s still that cold filling him, and he’s yet to feel anything in his legs and arms, but then the gurney is moving and he’s blinded by the emergency lights of the several trucks and police cars congregated.

He realizes it’s getting dark with a startle, the night falling upon them like a cozy, starry blanket, when merely seconds before it was noon and he was trying to find the perfect words to tell Carlos that he loves him. “How long—” he manages to say before he’s coughing up his lungs, the pain almost unbearable.

“Don’t talk, TK,” Michelle tells him, and it’s then that he realizes it was her hands he’s felt taking care of him. “There’ll be time.”

“Car—Carlos,” he forces out before Michelle places an oxygen mask over his mouth.

“I’ll go get him,” Marjan offers. He can see her out of the corner of his eye, weary and exhausted and yet as beautiful as ever, sauntering towards a spot among the crowd surrounding the accident — and he will have to ask later on about what has happened since he doesn’t remember anything — and then there’s Carlos and his father all but rushing toward him.

“Son,” his father exclaims, beating Carlos at reaching him and taking his hand. He shakes his head. “You’ll be alright. I promise.”

He tries to call out to Carlos, pulling the mask off with his free hand, not even letting go of his father’s. “Carlos, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I couldn’t have known—”

“Shhh,” Carlos hushes him, voice breaking down. “Don’t you dare—Don’t.”

“I don’t want our last—” He begins to cough, trailing off as he tries not to choke on his own spit.

“Don’t you dare, Tyler Kennedy,” Carlos threatens. “Don’t you dare say this is our last _whatever_. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to—We’re going to have all the time in the world.”

He knows they don’t, can feel it in his bones. He doesn’t want their last words to each other to be reproachful and sad; he doesn’t want Carlos to resent him for not being able to attend his niece’s birthday party; he doesn’t want Carlos to remember him by the bloody face and battered body sprawled on a gurney for everyone to see, attached to an IV and barely breathing.

Just when he’s about to say something, _anything_ , the tightness in his chest increases and he finds it impossible to breathe. He heaves, he gasps for air, but none comes. Michelle exclaims, “I’m losing him! His lungs are collapsing! C’mon, quick, go, go, go!”

This time, when the world, once again, fades to black, he’s got Carlos’ hand in his. He thinks it isn’t a bad way to go and finally, _finally_ , he lets go of the last shreds of consciousness until all that’s left is a big, dark void where his heartbeat once was.


	4. at the crossroads, in the middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, you say? Of course!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [911 Lone Star Week](https://911lonestarweek.tumblr.com/), **Day 5: Back to the Future (Future canon)**. The prompt was _I think we’re going to be just okay_ , and I've combined it with _90\. “You can tell me anything”_ given to me by [manesalex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manesalex/profile) from the [100 ways to say I love you](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/613502094751776768/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you) prompt list from a while ago.
> 
> This is a bit of a stretch, regarding the future canon. There's a bit of a time jump in here, does it count as future?
> 
> Chapter title comes from _Home_ by Westlife.
> 
>  **Warnings for the chapter include:** mentions of a car accident, mentions of injuries, mentions of coma, Alex is his own warning, angst, TK is an unreliable narrator

There’s a beeping sound grating on his nerves. He’s been hearing it from the second he’s regained consciousness, but he’s felt so exhausted that even the _thought_ of opening his eyes feels like a loaded effort that’s pointless right now. But that noise is literally making his skin crawl; all he wants is for it to stop.

“Ssstop,” he slurs. His lips feel heavy and his tongue feels swollen, too big for his mouth. He tries again. “M’ke it st’p.”

“TK? Are you awake?” That’s his father’s voice, shrilling through the pain he’s feeling in his skull. “Someone, call a doctor! He’s awake!”

 _Why is Dad calling a doctor?_? he thinks. _What’s happened?_ When he rakes his brain for answers, he draws up a blank along with the worst headache of his life. He hasn’t felt this bad ever before, not even during his worst withdrawals back in New York City.

TK wants to tell him to stop yelling, but he doesn’t find enough strength in his body to part his lips again and speak. He tries to lift his head from the pillows, but it won’t budge. He huffs.

“TK? Son, open your eyes for me, please?”

“Stop it,” TK manages to say. His head is aching so hard, and it feels like his brain is swimming in a pool, colliding against every wall in his skull. “Hurts.”

“Of course it hurts,” his father tells him. “But you’re awake, and that’s all that matters.”

TK doesn’t manage to open his eyes, but his father’s voice lulls him back to sleep even as the doctors rush into the room and begin poking and prodding. His father’s voice walks him through the pain of being touched over his bruises, through the crushing ache of the lines inserted in his veins being moved around, through the endless questions he can’t answer with his eyes closed. He can’t reply to anyone, not now. Maybe not in a long time.

He needs to sleep.

“We’ll come back later,” one strange voice says. TK thinks she might be his doctor, but he can’t be sure. He hasn’t been able to crack his eyes open, he’s too tired for that, so he hasn’t put a face to the voice. “I’ve given him something for the pain. It should help him sleep.”

“Thanks, doctor,” he hears his father say before plunging back into slumber.

The next time the beeping noise wakes him up, his head hurts less. It’s not free of the ache, but at least he can bear it this time; he tries to open his eyes but his eyelids are still too heavy. He groans. 

“TK?”

And _that_ voice makes him wish he could open his eyes. But as much as he wants to, he can’t. He groans again.

“TK, cariño, if you can hear me, please squeeze my hand,” the voice says again. TK can feel fingers weighing against his hand, tightening in a grip TK doesn’t want to let go of. He focuses on channeling all his strength into pushing his fingers up and around the flesh holding him together. “Yeah, yeah, just like that. Just like that, Tyler.”

He feels accomplished when he manages to pull his fingers up. With a supreme effort, he opens his eyes and squints at the light blinding him. He exhales deeply, allowing his sight to adjust to his new surroundings, and he takes in the scene.

He’s on a bed, hooked up to _at least_ three different machines. If the beeping hadn’t been any indication, he would have realized by now that he’s in a hospital. Last time he was here, heʼd been shot. 

“Please tell me I havenʼt been shot again,” he groans. 

“Nah,” Carlos chuckles when TK dares to look at him. “Welcome back. You gave us quite the scare.” 

“How long was I out?” 

“A little over two weeks,” Carlos informs him. “I still donʼt know what you were doing in that Uber while your father was alone in his chemo session, but there was an accident. A truck slid off the tracks and hit your car.” 

“The driver?” TK asks, closing his eyes again. He needs to know. It’s been too long. 

“Heʼs doing well, heʼll be out in no time. But we were worried about you.” 

TK nods. “Iʼm exhausted.” 

“Go back to sleep,” Carlos tells him with a soft voice, patting his hand lovingly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“You better,” TK slurs. 

“You can bet on it, tiger.”

The last thing he hears before drifting back to sleep is Carlos whispering with a shaky voice, “I think we’re going to be just okay.” 

Itʼs a good thought to fall asleep to.

* * *

He’s been in this hospital room for over a month, counting the time he spent in a coma that he doesn’t really remember. He’s been told the accident was horrible — heʼs lucky to have survived with a piece of rebar piercing through his side, puncturing his already damaged lung. Marjan tells him how she had to saw the metal without touching the wound it had left on him and Judd explains how they thought they wouldn’t make it in time to save him. Paul and Mateo are eager to share the stories of witnesses who didn’t like it when they pushed them around after three hours of rescuing them from inside the car. His father comes and goes, but he doesn’t want to talk about what he felt seeing his son trapped — he says that heʼs seen TK on the verge of dying enough times to last him a lifetime, and he doesn’t want to dwell on that. 

Carlos never says a word about what a disappointment TK is — about how heʼs missed his nieceʼs birthday because TK is such a failure. Instead, the cop remains sitting on that uncomfortable chair, drawing shapes on TKʼs skin as he rests in between his treatments. 

Today, it’s Graceʼs turn to come visit him. His family has been spending time with him whenever they can, working in shifts so he isn’t ever alone. She comes in with an apologetic look on her face and a smile, walking along with a red-haired woman TK has never seen before. 

“Hey, Grace,” he greets her when she sits down next to his bed. “And company.” 

“She’s Amanda,” Grace explains. “We work together in dispatch, and since she had to come visit her aunt who’s in this same hospital, we thought—” 

TK chuckles and greets Amanda, who looks as uncomfortable as TK feels. She wishes him a quick recovery and announces she’s going out to catch some fresh air with the other friend thatʼs come with her down to Austin.

“Keep up the tradition of bringing complete strangers to my hospital room,” TK jokes lightly when Grace’s friend Amanda steps aside, wishing him a quick recovery and getting out to search the correct room where her aunt is.

“Stop this silly tradition of ending up injured and you won’t have to meet our friends from a hospital bed,” Grace retaliates, not missing a beat. “I’ve been so worried about you, TK. We’ve all been.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers when she leans in to drop a kiss on his forehead. “I didn’t mean to get involved in a car accident.”

“I know,” she tells him, sitting down on a chair next to his chair. “That doesn’t invalidate my point.”

“Being?”

“You shouldn’t be left alone. You always end up either getting shot or inside a wrecked car.” She reaches out and brushes a rebel lock off his forehead. “And that’s when you haven’t inflicted it on yourself. It’s been quite a year, Mr. Strand,” she finishes with a small smile.

“I can promise you I’m trying my best to keep from ending up here,” he pouts. “Fate has other plans for me.”

“Well, next time I see you in a hospital, it better be for something cute,” she instructs him. “Like, for example, welcoming a baby.”

TK frowns at her — lost for a second in the ramifications of what she’s saying — until realization dawns upon him. “Are you serious, Grace?”

“As serious as I can be,” she assures him, bringing her hand to her stomach in a protective stance. 

TK smiles warmly. “Congratulations! Now I get to tease Judd whenever he comes around.”

“You better,” she laughs. “He’s being a nightmare, always hovering over me as though I’m this damsel in distress. I’m pregnant, you know, not sick.”

TK laughs along with her, squeezing her hand tightly. Now that he’s regained full motion range in his upper body — still working on rehabilitation for his lower body — he’s trying to touch everything and everyone he can. He needs to get reacquainted with the tactile part of learning.

“How far along are you? When are you due?” he asks, out of curiosity. “Sometime in spring?”

“Barely over three months, and probably mid-April,” she snickers. “It’s still too early, but I wanted to tell you. You’re our miracle boy, TK Strand, and I wanted to give you a reason to keep going when you falter. Although I know you already have some reasons,” she winks at him.

He huffs out a laugh. “I actually needed yours,” he tells her with a soft smile. “That baby girl is going to be so spoiled, gosh.”

“You seem so sure I’m having a girl.”

“What else?” TK shakes his head, the breathing goggles shaking with him. “She’s going to be a fierce tiny Grace.”

“Thanks, dear.”

TK squeezes her hand once again. He isn’t allowed to give hugs yet, the doctors are scared he might pop a stitch or crush his lungs even more than he already has, so this sliver of touch is all he’s allowed to have. It doesn’t mean he’s not craving human touches. He misses the way his father’s arms feel against his waist when he’s holding him up in a tight embrace. He misses the way Marjan’s hands feather over his shoulders after a shift gone perfect. He misses Judd’s ruffling his hair and Paul mock-punching his arm and Mateo patting his back. He misses Michelle caressing his cheek in that motherly way of hers.

He misses Carlos’ mouth mapping every inch of his skin.

“Grace,” Amanda says from the door. They both jump, slightly shaken. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m leaving now. I was wondering whether you wanted to tag along or stay a little bit longer?”

TK squints at Grace when she hesitates. “Go,” he tells her. “I’ll be fine in my death bed.”

“Why do you have to be so—”

“Charming?” He flashes his best smile, but she’s having none of it.

“A freak,” she mutters before turning to her friend. “Amanda, I’m sorry. Can we maybe catch up later? I really, really want to stay here for a bit longer, until Carlos comes.”

“Of course,” Amanda nods. “See you later, Grace. And I hope you get out of here soon, TK.” 

“Thanks!” he replies chirpily. 

Amanda waves before leaving, but in the time between her biding her farewell and setting to leave another person enters the frame — tall, broad shoulders, wearing a maroon sweater — and a voice TK would have recognized anywhere says, “Excuse me, ma’am, do you know where I can find—TK?”

The newcomer steps into his field of vision, and suddenly his world comes to halt so abruptly he feels he’s going to slip off the edge. TK has to blink away tears as Grace looks hesitantly between the door and the bed.

“Excuse me, do you know each other?” she asks cautiously.

When TK tries to speak, his voice comes out rough as he tries to reign in the sudden tears rushing to his eyes. “What the actual _fuck_ are you doing here, _Alex_?”

“Alex?” Grace asks out loud, voice overlapping the other sound coming from outside the room, from behind a giant bouquet of flowers that hides Carlos’s frame.

“Alex?”

* * *

“You know, you can tell me anything,” Carlos insists, looking at him with those big, compassionate eyes of his. “Just talk to me, TK.”

TK keeps looking stubbornly out of the window, not speaking. He knows he’s being a jerk about this, but he’s spent the past three days — ever since Alex stepped back into his life by a complete and tragic accident — refusing to say a word to anyone. He doesn’t want to admit that seeing Alex has shaken his very core.

He doesn’t want to admit that he’s spent the past seventy-two hours mulling over the new reality that Alex’s presence in his life has brought.

“This is ridiculous,” Carlos sighs. “Just talk to me, honey. _Please_.”

“I just—” TK shakes his head, eyes never leaving the window. “I don’t know what to say.”

“How about you begin by telling me how you’re feeling?” Carlos suggests. “Your ex, who cheated on you, shows up out of the blue by a complete coincidence. That surely has to have made you feel something.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” TK mumbles. He sighs when he hears the rustling of Carlos’ chair moving across the floor, the subtle footsteps marking that his boyfriend is walking slowly towards him. 

“I always want to know about you, cariño,” Carlos reassures him. TK can tell he’s standing behind him — his reflection on the window glass giving him away — and he can also tell that Carlos is hesitant about touching him. TK can’t say he blames him.

To TK’s eyes, Carlos had looked _disappointed_.

Hell, TK is disappointed in himself as well.

He never thought he’d be the kind of guy to allow his cheating ex to come back into his life. He never thought he’d run into Alex so soon, when TK thought he was doing good with the healing phase of leaving the past behind.

But, again, TK never thought he’d relapse because of Alex — TK never thought he’d want to die again, but a year ago he’d stood in the middle of a dark alley exchanging money for poison and drinking up the feeling of utter annihilation of the few shreds left of his soul.

“I never thought I’d see him again in Austin of all places,” TK finally says. His hands find their way up to his hair, and he tugs on it hard enough to bring some pain. He deserves it. 

“I don’t think any of us did, really,” Carlos tells him in a soothing voice when it’s evident TK isn’t saying anything else, swallowed in his own grief as the silence grows around them.

“I really don’t want to talk about this,” TK states with a small shake of his head. “I’ve spent a month and a half sequestered in this room, trying to get better. Tomorrow I’m going home, and for the first time I don’t want to.”

He feels Carlos breathe in deeply, and there’s a hand creeping up his arm until deft fingers find that spot in the junction of his neck and his collarbone and begin to massage it. TK wants to give in to the feeling Carlos is trying to imbue on him. 

He thinks it may be bravery. He thinks it may be comfort.

He really wants it to be _love_.

“Don’t you want to come home with your father?” Carlos asks slowly. 

“I don’t really want to leave this bubble, you know. I feel safe here.”

“Don’t you feel safe with your family?” Carlos keeps asking, fingers still digging into TK’s skin. “With your father? With _me_?”

TK sighs. It’s difficult for him to explain, but he knows he has to try, if only for Carlos’ sake. Carlos deserves much more than what he’s currently giving him.

“I’ve been thinking,” TK confesses. “It’s not like I feel the same about Alex anymore, he _cheated_ on me, you know. But seeing him here—it’s hard for me. His new boyfriend’s sister lives here and she just had a baby; they’re visiting for a few days. What are the odds, huh?” he asks rhetorically, tugging at his hair once again. “Did you know? Apparently Mitchell cheated on him,” TK chuckles. “Can’t say I feel sorry about that. I thought I’d gotten over him. But he,” TK holds his breath for a moment before rushing the words out, “he was the fucking love of my life. And now I—”

“And you don’t know whether or not you’re completely over him,” Carlos says, withdrawing his hand from TK’s skin, and he’s feeling the loss immediately. There’s a hint of hurt in Carlos’ voice that is masked by his professional tone — the words echoing the speech Carlos had given TK that night at the precinct, when he managed to get himself arrested — when he speaks again. “What do you want to do, TK? What do you _really_ want to do?”

“I don’t know,” he confesses. He hears Carlos taking a step back.

“Well, then,” Carlos says slowly. “I guess you have to make up your mind and decide what you want, TK. That’s the first step.”

“This isn’t—”

He wants to complain, he wants to stop Carlos. Instead, he remains still, glued to his spot in front of the window pane. 

“I told you once, and I’m telling you now, TK. Last time you were in a hospital bed, I had all these strong feelings about you, and I didn’t even know you. Now that I do, now that I know what it’s like to be an _us_ , I’m not giving up on you.” Carlos laughs but it’s a hollow sound. “But I’m not going to lie to you. There will _never_ be an _us_ if you’re not a hundred percent sure about it.”

“This is not—”

“Be honest with me,” Carlos demands. TK has never been good at saying no — to anyone in his life, really — so against his better judgment he nods. “That’s all I’m asking. If you need time to think, just tell me. But don’t go beating around the bush with this, TK. I don’t think either one of us deserves it.” 

TK knows he has to say something, anything, but he canʼt bring himself to speak. This is what he was trying to avoid when he rushed out of his fatherʼs chemo session to chase Carlos. He had wanted to apologize, to tell Carlos that he loved him. 

Seeing Alex, by that huge coincidence, by this turn of fate, has shaken TK to his very core. Heʼs realized that he might not be over Alex at all — that maybe what he thinks he feels for Carlos is just a mirage of what he still feels for Alex but thought he could never have again. It isn’t fair to Carlos, and right now the only thing TK cares about is not to lead Carlos on any longer. 

He wants to say that he doesn’t know who he really is on his own, without a strong hand supporting him whenever he falters. He wants to say that he needs to understand his own existence before plunging into whatever future he wants to have with Carlos.

He isn’t even sure, now, that there’s a chance at anything with Carlos, not when there’s this turmoil inside of him, deafening every single thought trying to surface.

He wants to tell Carlos to wait for him, to give him space, to help him figure out who TK Strand is without all the walls he’s put up to avoid facing the truth — that TK Strand doesn’t know how to function on his own.

But it takes him too long to speak his mind, and Carlos takes his silence at face value and retreats. 

“I guess it was definitely not supposed to be,” Carlos says, and it sounds so final, that TK has to look around, he has to meet Carlos’ eyes. What he sees there breaks him, but somehow he thinks he deserves it.

He hasn’t seen devastation as wrecking as the one hollowing Carlos’ soul.

“Carlos, wait,” he tries, but even he knows it’s too late.

“I guess I’ll see you around, then, TK,” Carlos whispers. He’s already reached the door, he’s leaving the room, he’s leaving TK, he’s—

TK can’t breathe, all of a sudden.

Carlos turns around before stepping out, and mumbles something that sounds so eerily similar to _I thought you loved me too_ before he says out loud, “Take care, tiger.”

And then TK is alone in his empty room, devoid of all emotion except for the crushing knowledge that he’s probably made the biggest mistake of his life.


	5. a wild night with a hell of a view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you ask for a little more angst? I'm happy to deliver!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [911 Lone Star Week](https://911lonestarweek.tumblr.com/), **Day 6: Romance**. The prompt was _I feel so weak, I fell so deep_ , and I've combined it with _40\. “I made this for you”_ given to me by [manesalex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manesalex/profile) from the [100 ways to say I love you](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/613502094751776768/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you) prompt list from a while ago.
> 
> Chapter title comes from _No Place_ by Backstreet Boys.
> 
>  **Warnings for the chapter include:** mentions of a car accident, mentions of injuries, Alex is his own warning, angst, TK is an unreliable narrator

“Are you sure you’re going to be fine?” his father asks for the fourth time since packing up the bag for his upcoming shift, while TK looks at him from his spot sitting at the kitchen table. “I can totally stay in.”

TK huffs. “Iʼm fine, dad. Just go! Youʼre going to be late.” 

“But, TK—” 

The doorbell saves TK from replying to his father in what wouldn’t have been a polite rebuttal. He thinks it might be Judd, who promised to pick their captain up now that he has his car back. TK shakes his head as he motions for his father to move. He’s been back home for three weeks now, although he isn’t fit for working yet according to his doctors, and heʼs already fed up with his father mother-henning him at all hours. All the time heʼs been on leave, his father has been feathering around him, trying to cater to his every desire, and making sure TK wasnʼt going down the rabbit hole with his painkillers. 

TK is ready for his father to go back on a normal schedule instead of taking on half shifts and odd hours to keep track of how TK is recovering. 

“No buts,” he retaliates with a stern voice. “I have food, I have Netflix lined up on the TV, and Grace will come after her shift to keep me company.” When his father lifts an eyebrow at him, TK sighs. “I promise to call you if Iʼm in pain. For real.” 

“Itʼs not only physical pain Iʼm afraid of, TK,” his father points out. “Itʼs been three weeks.” 

He frowns. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not with his father, not ever, but certainly not _now_ that his father is about to leave for a twenty-four-hour shift. Heʼs been doing better. He doesn’t need his father worrying about his feelings as well. 

“Dad,” he says warningly. “Iʼm okay.”

“Are you, though?” his father tells him before picking up his bag and hanging in from his left shoulder. “I have to leave now. But Iʼll call you mid-shift okay?” 

The doorbell rings again. “You should be going,” TK tells his father. “The captain shouldn’t be late.” 

“You think youʼre clever,” his father mumbles as he saunters toward the door. “I just worry about you, TK. I know seeing Alex was a shock, but itʼs been three weeks.” 

“That’s why everyone is so worried about me?” TK finally explodes. His outburst coincides with the door opening and showing Judd waiting outside, leaning against the wall, with Michelle opposite to him. “You’re not worried I bruised my lungs again, or that I almost died in a car accident. Youʼre worried I might relapse because I saw my ex while I was in the hospital!” 

“Can you blame us, son?” his father tells him. “You broke up with Carlos because of Alex.” 

“That’s not—” TK rubs a hand over his face in defeat. “I understand where youʼre coming from, Dad, but I donʼt want to talk about it. Not now, not ever.” He waits a bit until his words sink in before continuing, “Judd, it’s good to see you. Michelle, please come in. I will come by the station later, Dad.” 

As Michelle nods and enters the house, TK forces the door closed, silencing whatever words his father was saying, whatever greeting Judd was giving him. He has heard enough. 

TK should have known better than to trust Michelle wouldn’t delve right into the same topic, given that Carlos is her best friend, but he canʼt stand the idea of his father trying to make him open up about the turmoil of feelings whirl-winding inside of him. He trusts his father — Owen Strand is probably the only human being who can read him with just a glance — but he isn’t sure that he needs his fatherʼs stern eyes trying to make him feel guilty for having pushed Carlos away. His therapist had been both aghast and proud when TK had explained the situation — proud that TK had identified a problem and had protected himself from harm at sending Alex away, and aghast that in doing so TK had pushed Carlos away. And now TK is trying to make sense of who he is without Alex or Carlos, just by himself, but itʼs difficult when everything reminds him of Carlos. 

Itʼs interesting, how after seeing Alex and having a complete meltdown, TK hadnʼt felt lost. Heʼd felt confused, but not at a loss — Alex had been his life, once upon a time, so it had been just normal to have doubts after talking to him. But, after his conversation with Carlos — after voicing those doubts out loud, after putting a name to what he felt — TK had felt as though heʼd lost his grounding and was walking on quicksand. 

A misstep, and heʼd suffocate, just like that time when he had boldly disobeyed Juddʼs indications and heʼd almost died choking on grain. 

TK has been misstepping for twenty-three days, and he doesn’t know how to come back to the path heʼs supposed to be walking. 

“I will check on your blood pressure and change your dressings,” Michelle is saying, taking him out of his thoughts. “Then Iʼll be out of your hair.” 

“You say that as though—” TK tries to speak as she motions for him to sit down and roll his sleeves upper than it already is. “Iʼve been a jerk to everyone, havenʼt I?” 

Michelle chuckles. She attaches the velcro around his biceps and begins pumping until she’s got the numbers she’s been looking for. “Looks like youʼre healthy,” she informs him. “And to answer your question, Iʼm not the best person to ask, TK.” 

He purses his lips. She goes on about checking the bandages on his side, pushing his shirt open and feeling the skin around the injury with nimble fingers. “I will not apologize for taking care of myself,” he says stubbornly. 

“I will never hold that against you,” Michelle tells him. She withdraws her hands and proceeds to buttons his shirt back. “You’re doing good. In a few days you should be fit to go back to work. I imagine thatʼs what you want.” 

“Why donʼt you address the big elephant in the room?” he questions straight ahead while she’s placing her medical equipment back into her bag. 

“Because that elephant is my best friend,” she deadpans. She stops gathering her things and sighs, head bowed toward the leather bag. “I donʼt know what to tell you, TK. It’s not my place to say anything to you.” 

“How is he doing?” he asks before he can stop himself. 

“Are you sure you want me to answer that question?” she looks at him, her big eyes never blinking. TK finds it oddly calming although he knows she’s trying to intimidate him. “You should have thought about that before you threw my best friend out.” 

“I didnʼt—” 

“You told him that Alex was, what did you say?” she goes back to furiously place her things into the bag again. “Ah, yes, the love of your life. I believe there was an expletive there as well. How do you think Carlos is doing, TK?” 

He recoils as though she’s slapped him, which in a way she has. TK has been thinking of Carlos every hour of every day for the past three weeks — of the look in Carlosʼ eyes when TK had spoken those hurtful words, of the way heʼd backed out giving TK space to heal — and he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. 

This time he’s fallen so hard — the kind of love that makes his knees go weak and his heart soar and his soul both ache and sing — that he doesn’t know what to do with so much feeling. He’s always seen himself as weak, as undeserving, and maybe that’s the real mistake he’s made.

Maybe he shouldn’t have allowed himself to _feel_ for Carlos, but now it’s too late. He’s in too deep, he can’t backtrack.

He can’t reach out to Carlos either, not without causing much more damage than what he’s already done.

“I never wanted to hurt him,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, well,” Michelle looks up and shakes her head. “Itʼs a little too late for that.” 

“Michelle,” he almost pleads, but she grabs her bag and starts walking to the front door. 

“I should get going,” she says, voice as monotone as she can muster. TK can tell she’s trying to control her emotions. “I guess Iʼll be seeing you at the station at some point?” 

“I will go there to pick my father up to go to his chemo session tomorrow,” TK reports. “See you then.” 

“Take care, TK,” she says as farewell before stepping out and leaving TK alone in his house — too big for just one person, too empty for his soul, too deafening in its complete silence.

* * *

He spends the morning tucked in a blanket on the couch, the TV on as background noise, the remote in his hand as he adjusts the volume every now and then on the Netflix movie heʼs picked up. He hasnʼt paid attention to anything ever since Michelle has left earlier, his mind mulling over everything she’s said — over what she _hasnʼt_ said, too — and kicking himself over and over for being a jerk. 

TK always manages to fuck everything up. He did so at sixteen, when he first tasted poison in the form of a freedom he didn’t believe he deserved. He did so at twenty, when he allowed his addiction to take over his life and he woke up on the hospital after overdosing, his fatherʼs worried eyes preying upon him. He did so at twenty-six, when he proposed to his boyfriend only to find out that he had been cheated on for months, when he allowed his grief to take over and he rushed to a corner he knew so well to ask for forgiveness in the form of numbness. 

Ever since his father forced him to wake up on the dirty floor of his apartment in Brooklyn, TK has been consistently messing up with everything and everyone thatʼs crossed his path. Heʼs fucked up with Carlos on that night when he misunderstood a date for a booty call. Heʼs fucked up with Carlos when he spent their first real date complaining about Judd of all people. Heʼs fucked up with Carlos when he told him that he wasnʼt sure there had ever been a _we_ for them. 

He’s fucked up when heʼs pushed Carlos away in an attempt to understand who he is without the help Carlosʼ love provides. 

TK knows, objectively, that he needed to know who he is without anyone by his side. He’s spent every waking hour of his adult life besides someone — be it his hook-ups during his early teens, or that first boyfriend he had who had introduced him to drugs, or Alex who’d managed to kill every part of him by playing with his heart. Carlos has just been the latest addition, but TK has never felt with anyone the way he feels whenever he _thinks_ of Carlos. 

TK has never felt himself more than when he’s holding Carlos’ hands.

He wipes angrily at his cheeks when he feels tears spilling down. He doesn’t want to cry — doesn’t think he deserves that outlet — and he doesn’t want to feel vulnerable when he knows he’s the cause of his own sadness.

“TK, I’m here!” comes Grace’s voice filling the space, the clinking of the keys his father gave the Ryders for emergencies following her steps. He can hear something else, a soft _thudthudthud_ that doesn’t add up to her heels clicking on the floors of his house. He wants to get up and meet her halfway, but he finds himself unable to move. All strength has drowned out of him in waves. “Oh, dear,” she whispers when she enters the living room and takes in the scene in front of him. 

TK knows he must be a sight — wrapped in a blanket like a human burrito, eyes red-rimmed from crying, face flushed and puffed — and he wants to say something to excuse himself, when a ball of energy rushes past Grace and jumps into the couch next to him, eliciting a surprised yelp from him.

“Buttercup!” he exclaims, patting the dog’s head. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought he’d be good for you,” Grace explains as she drops her purse on the coffee table, a carefully wrapped package and a bag from his favorite donut place still in her grasp. “I guess I was right. You look like shit, TK, have you been crying?” When he doesn’t reply, she sits down beside him. “Honey, what’s going on? I thought you were doing fine? Does it hurt? Should I raid the first-aid cabinet?”

He chuckles lowly, but it isn’t cheerful. He feels as though his insides are being torn. “I’m—I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt, the stitches, I mean.”

“Then?” Her face is open, her eyes searching his with so much compassion that he feels like crying again. Instead, he hugs Buttercup, who hasn’t budged from his side and is now licking at his face. 

“Why do you put up with me?” he blurts out. Grace stares at him bewildered, silently urging him to elaborate. “I mean, I’m a mess. I’m an addict, I keep seeking that first high, and I push people away. Why haven’t you guys given up on me already?”

“Where’s this coming from, TK?” Grace questions, reaching out and brushing some more tears from his face. He sighs, angrily. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“I’m not doing anything to myself! I’m doing it to others!”

“Sure thing, sugar,” she whispers. “Have you heard yourself? Have you heard the words you use to describe who you are? Your addiction doesn’t define you, TK. How you treat yourself does.”

He groans when Buttercup moves from licking his face to licking his hand. Grace doesn’t relent, though, only giving him a small relief before she charges again. “I understand that you’ve gone through some life-altering situations this year. In less than nine months, you’ve almost died three times. That has to be scary. Your world has been rocked as many times, for different reasons.”

“And all those times I’ve managed to mess everything up!” he complains, sinking further into the blanket, so that not even Buttercup can reach him to comfort him.

“I’m not disagreeing with you on that,” she tells him. “You overdosed because of Alex, and you had to decide whether this was the life you wanted to choose for yourself after you were shot. This time, TK,” she trails off, sighing when he shakes his head. She fidgets with the package she still has on her hands. “This time,” she continues, “you’re set on ruining the only real chance you’ve got at happiness. That’s not something you’re doing to others, TK, it’s something you’re doing to yourself.”

“Maybe I don’t know how to be happy,” he mumbles, petty and childish.

“Does anyone?” she counteracts. “I’m not judging you wanting space after what happened at the hospital. Surely seeing Alex so out of the blue made you rethink everything. That happens after you see your life threatened, TK, you know that. After an accident like yours, you begin to question everything. Add to that the presence of your cheating ex, and your boat will turn over for sure.”

“So you don’t think I was wrong in pushing Carlos away,” he mutters, peeking up from the blanket.

“I think you needed that space, and asking for it was brave. But,” she holds up a finger, “I _do_ believe you don’t have to keep up the farce of wanting to be alone when it’s making you miserable.”

“I’m not miserable,” he pouts.

“TK, I came in to you wrapped in a blanket and crying. You’re going through a really bad phase right now, and you shouldn’t be alone. You need the people who love you, and that includes Carlos. In fact, I think Carlos would be the only one you wouldn’t push away.”

“He wouldn’t want to be here for me,” he tells her in what he hopes is a serious voice, but it cracks around the edges of the words he isn’t speaking — _he doesn’t deserve a fuckup like me_ and _he’s better off without all this drama_ and _he can’t possibly love me anymore_.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she says with an enigmatic smile as she stands up, leaving the package in her wake. “I’m going to make lunch. Your father told me that you love these gluten free donuts, TK. Help yourself while I get lunch ready, but donʼt eat too many. I want you to eat a proper meal today.”

He nods absently, opening the bag and picking one donut out. He nibbles on it, his attention focused on the package on the couch. He doesn’t pay much more attention to Grace tinkering in the open kitchen of the house he shares with his father; he’s captivated by the rough edges of the wrapping paper, a light blue that fades on the corners as though the person in charge of wrapping whatever it is inside has lingered on touching them. He looks at Buttercup, now on the floor, and bites his lower lip.

“What do you say, boy?” he asks the dog. “Should we open it?”

“I think you should!” Grace exclaims from the kitchen. TK scoffs but reaches out for the package.

It’s heavy in his hands.

He takes care while unwrapping, not wanting to tear the paper and spoil it. TK doesn’t know what compels him to be so careful, but it takes him longer than expected tearing up the paper and by the time he’s done he’s not the only one impatiently waiting to see what’s inside. Buttercup barks loudly when TK manages to set the paper apart to discover a plain brown box. He tries to tamper his disappointment by tapping on the lid, the noise startling Buttercup. The dog places a paw in his knee, as if nudging him to open the box.

He does.

Inside, he can see the contents of what can only be described as a care package: a few chocolate bars that TK will always swear he doesn’t eat while munching them below the table, a gift card to his favorite Boba Tea Shop in Austin, and a pale blue hoodie with the silhouette of a tiger embroidered on the front that is his exact size. There’s no letter, no note, but he doesn’t need them to know who’s sent the package — to know why he’s holding to this hope suddenly bubbling up inside of him.

Nothing says _I made this for you_ in true Carlos Reyes style than the few items wrapped with such care in a box sent over through Grace. 

“He remembered,” TK marvels as he picks the hoodie up and looks at it. 

A few days into their new relationship — after TK had been brave enough to hold Carlos’ hand and tell him they made a good team — he had confessed that he loved wearing hoodies because the softness of the fabric always reminded him somehow of _home_. And that feeling of belonging, that sensation of being part of something warm, was something TK chased like he’d chased the high the oxy gave him. He’d had told Carlos that he wished they could be each other’s home.

He was left alone with no home to come back to, because he pushed Carlos away so badly this time that he’d thought there was no redemption for him.

But now, TK thinks as he sniffles on the hoodie, the smell of new filling his nostrils, now he may have a chance. Now that he’s come to realize that he’s only himself when he’s with Carlos, now that he knows where _home_ is, maybe he can right his wrongs.

He’s still paralyzed when it comes to it, though, because as much as he wants to believe that this is Carlos’ way to tell him that the path back home will always be lit with love, no matter the adversities, he’s still aware that he’s messed up so badly this time that only a miracle could redeem him.

“What I don’t understand, TK,” says Grace, showing up with an apron loosely tied over her clothes, “is why you’re still here moping when you could be making amends. Nothing like a good groveling to make your point come across.”

“You don’t know what’s that,” he points out, grumbling, as he holds the hoodie close to his chest, the blanket all but forgotten in his amazement.

“Why are you here,” she begins, pointing a fork at him, “when you could be with _him_ , telling him how much you love him?”

“I don’t know that I can say those words,” he mumbles.

“Then don’t say them,” Grace advises. “Show him. That’s the best declaration of love, TK.”

He nods curtly, mind already whirring with all the ideas that are now flying around, too hyped up by the smallest chance at being happy. He puts aside the blanket and gets up, followed by Buttercup. “Here,” he says. “Let me help you with lunch, and then you can help me with plotting.”

“That’s the best way of spending our afternoon, for sure,” she smiles brightly at him, turning around and stepping into the kitchen, followed suit by a TK with a new spring in his step.


	6. found the perfect words to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [911 Lone Star Week](https://911lonestarweek.tumblr.com/), **Day 7: Anything Goes**. The prompt was _Be free, be brave. Anything you want goes_ , and I've combined it with _19\. “Can I hold your hand?”_ from the [100 ways to say I love you](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/613502094751776768/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you) prompt list from a while ago.
> 
> The text messages are all created using [GeekPrank](https://geekprank.com/chat-screenshot/).
> 
> Chapter title comes from _Home_ by Goo Goo Dolls.
> 
>  **Warnings for the chapter include:** angst to fluff, hopeful ending, TK is an unreliable narrator

Autumn in Austin is even more colorful than in New York. TK finds out corners of the city light up in oranges and browns, fiery reds coloring the trees, leaves falling to the ground in swirls that match the somersaults his heart is making as he walks the streets of the city heʼs finally learned to be his home. His heartbeat is pounding in his veins, a shaky staccato that sets the pace of his own steps. He clutches a piece of paper in his fist while he looks up at the buildings, marveling in the immensity of their height. 

He’s navigating Austin for the first time since he came here, on his own, while there’s still light outside instead of wandering to the worst places in the dead of the night. He wants to map the city out by heart, to be able to point out his favorite places because he has discovered them, not because heʼs followed someone else. So TK has taken to walking the packed streets of the commercial district and hailing a cab when he’s tired and needs to come back home. 

He chews absentmindedly on the strings of the blue hood with the embroidered tiger as he sees his destination, the directions to it scribbled in Michelleʼs almost doctor-like scrawl. Today heʼs a man on a mission — figuring out where the food truck Michelle has told him about is. He has to meet her there in a few minutes, before they both head to the station for their shift. It’s TKʼs time to go back to work, and heʼs been both dreading and looking forward to this moment. He’s been gone for the most part of yet another month after being discharged from the hospital, and heʼs itching to wear his uniform and save lives, but he also fears the second his team has to join forces with Austin PD. He doesn’t know if Carlos is working today, and itʼs not like he wants to avoid him, but the truth is that TK has been postponing his own plans of going up to the cop and talking to him. 

The reality is TK is too scared of the outcome — of the chance that Carlos wonʼt even want to see him, much less talk — that heʼs been busying himself with other things to keep his mind occupied. 

Michelle has insisted that he comes to have lunch with her today of all days. She said that he needed to try this Mexican food at least once, that having lived in Austin for over half a year now and not having gone here is a sin. TK doesn’t have the heart to tell her that heʼs been avoiding everything Mexican because it reminds him of Carlos. He knows heʼs being childish and he has no right — after all it was him who dumped Carlos unceremoniously while on recovery at the hospital — but whenever he turns around he hopes to see Carlos near him and when inevitably Carlos isn’t there, TK feels himself get beyond disappointed. 

He feels wrecked in ways the accident hasnʼt destroyed him. 

TK locates the food truck easily, and he wades his way through the crowd at the benches looking for Michelle. He doesn’t see her at first so he sweeps the space once again, and this time he notices something he missed the first time. 

Carlos is sitting on a bench, all by himself, looking lost, dressed in his uniform as though he is mid-shift. He has a soda in front of him but it seems untouched. TK blinks slowly, trying to lure the vision away. But Carlos is still sitting alone when TK looks again. 

His phone beeps twice. He doesn’t have to check to know itʼs Michelle, but he fishes for it through his pocket and punches his code into the screen. 

He doesn’t reply to those last texts. He breathes in instead to steady himself and takes a step forward at the same time as Carlos turns around and their gazes meet. 

It pains him to see the void in Carlosʼ eyes, the paleness of his otherwise olive skin, the fidgeting of his hands touching the soda can almost hysterically. He has never seen Carlos like this — lost in ways TK can relate to — but then again he thinks he doesn’t know Carlos all that well. He knows how Carlos sounds in the middle of the night, and the various dance steps heʼs tried to teach TK, and the snarky remarks he can come up with. But TK doesn’t know the ways Carlos copes when heʼs been through a hard shift, or his favorite TV shows, or the music he hums when he’s cooking.

All TK knows is that he wants to erase the pain from Carlosʼ features. 

“Hello, Carlos,” he says, approaching, when itʼs too evident heʼs staring. Carlos shrugs and picks up his soda. 

“Hey, TK.” 

Even his voice sounds empty. TK wants nothing more than to soothe the pain seeping through that greeting, but he refrains himself. Heʼs spent a huge part of his days planning how to breach the subject, how to get closer to Carlos to talk, and heʼs always found a reason to back down. Grace has been giving him the stink eye during their weekly gathering together, hinting not so subtly that sheʼd love to have Carlos around before giving birth to her baby. 

Everyone is happier when Carlos is around, TK has noticed. Whenever TK brings out darkness, Carlos is able to lift the mood. TK needs that in his life, but heʼs been too stupid to recognize the good when he had it, and now he must choose how to move forward — try to win Carlos back or give up on him entirely. 

TK can be a lot of things, but heʼs never backed out of a challenge. He rushes into burning buildings for a living, he shouldn’t be scared of rejection. 

But he is. Heʼs terrified of being rejected, but heʼs even more scared of thinking that Carlos could agree to come back out of pity or because he might think TK could relapse. He will always be an addict. He will always crave that feeling. He will always fight his instincts and sometimes they will win. 

“Mind if I sit here?” TK asks. He doesn’t know how to behave in front of Carlos anymore, and it pains him to hesitate. 

“Uhm, yeah, sure,” Carlos agrees, gesturing for him to sit down across him. “Michelle will be here any moment. She’s a bit late to our weekly date.” 

“Check your phone,” TK suggests, pointing at the device flipped down on the wooden table. “She’s not coming.” 

Carlos stares at him bewildered before picking up his phone and surfing through his messages. TK smiles as he frowns and then sighs deeply, resigning himself for whatever Michelle has put them up to. Before he can say anything, though, a voice cuts him off, “Reyes, are we still on for that drink after shift?” 

TK sees the shift as it unfolds — the way Carlos puts up a wall, the smile TK can tell is fake from a mile away, the small tilt of his head as he replies in a neutral voice that isn’t Carlos at all, “Of course, Wakefield! Itʼs your turn to buy, donʼt think Iʼve forgotten!” 

The other officer nods his assent, and TK realizes he hasnʼt noticed the change in Carlosʼ stance. He has to bite down his lip to keep it from curling up in a smile. 

He can read Carlos still, and that shouldn’t be a reason to be cheerful — not when Carlos is evidently in so much pain — but TK canʼt help it. He _knows_ Carlos, even if he doesn’t know half of his habits. 

“Iʼm going to order,” he says abruptly, causing Carlos to look at him. “What do you want?” 

“Iʼm good,” Carlos replies with another shrug, the image of nonchalantly dismissed. 

“Have you even eaten something?” TK insists. 

“I told you, Iʼm good,” Carlos repeats. 

“Don’t be stubborn,” TK says without thinking, earning himself a glare from Carlos. He flinches under the heat conveyed in those eyes. “I know you always wait for Michelle before ordering. Let me buy you lunch. It’s the least I can do.”

Carlos doesn’t say anything. TK sighs and stands up anyways. He saunters towards the food truck and waits in the queue impatiently, glancing back every now and then to make sure Carlos hasn’t left. TK fears that’s what’s going to happen — nothing keeps Carlos glued to that bench, and if he hadn’t wanted to talk to TK, he most likely would have got up and left a while ago. Yet, Carlos is still sitting on the bench, sipping from his soda can that he’s got so tightly gripped it could explode only from the pressure alone.

TK focuses on the menu hanging from the side of the truck and winces at the options. Heʼs used to paleo and gluten-free products, and the times heʼs had dinner at Carlosʼ — always dinner, occasionally breakfast, never lunch — he hadn’t realized that Carlosʼ tastes could be so different from his. However, he recalls Carlos saying one night that he liked _chimichanga de pollo_ and as he skims through the names he recognizes a few options. He orders as quickly as he can and tells the cashier to keep the change in his haste to go back to Carlos. 

He still doesn’t know what to say, but he knows he canʼt miss this chance. 

Carlos is still staring into the void, fingers around his soda, when TK comes back. He places his vegetarian fajita on the table, and the tortilla in front of Carlos, watching as he first frowns and then looks up at him. 

“You remembered,” itʼs all he says. TK wants to reassure him that there’s nothing about Carlos that heʼll ever forget, but he refrains himself from speaking. “I only told you, like, once.”

“Iʼm always listening,” TK whispers, boldly reaching out and placing his hand near Carlosʼ, close enough to make his intentions clear but not touching him quite yet. “Iʼve always listened to you.” 

Carlos doesn’t move. He doesn’t pick the taco up, but he doesn’t withdraw his hand either. TK takes it as a good sign, and tries to remember the words heʼs been rehearsing with Grace — everything heʼs written down in an attempt to keep his ideas neat for the right moment. 

He draws out a blank.

He tries to recall the words, the feelings, the ideas Grace has ingrained in his mind but thereʼs nothing coming up. 

“What are you doing here, TK?” Carlos asks him when the silence is unbearable in TKʼs ears. Neither of them has touched the food heʼs laid on the table between their two benches.

“I think Michelle has played us both,” he replies, confident in his voice not breaking. He mostly succeeds. 

“You could have left when you saw me,” Carlos points out.

TK feigns pondering the answer for a second. “You could have left as well when I insisted on buying you lunch.” 

Carlos nods curtly but doesn’t say anything else. TK fidgets in his seat, unable to form a coherent thought to get through Carlos. He just needs to be heard, but he doesn’t know what to say.

He doesn’t want to put his foot on his mouth like every other time he’s tried to talk to Carlos, because he always manages to mess things up with the man he now knows is the love of his life. TK’s been replaying his words from _that_ moment, how unfair he’s been to Carlos, how many lies he said without being aware he wasn’t telling the truth.

“I don’t want us to be friends,” he blurts out, and it’s evidently the wrong thing to say for the way Carlos tenses up in front of him. “No, no, please, I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t see how one can misunderstand what you’ve just said, TK,” Carlos points out, arching one eyebrow as he stares ahead. 

“No, listen,” TK threads one hand through his short hair in a nervous tick that he’s caught up on these weeks without Carlos. He misses the way Carlos touches his scalp when he’s stressed and needs comfort.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over needing Carlos in every aspect of his life.

“I miss you,” he finally settles to say. “I’ve missed you every fucking _second_ of these weeks. And I—I know I don’t deserve you,” he continues, looking up at Carlos who’s now staring at him with bewildered eyes. “I know I said so many hurtful things but the truth is, Carlos, the truth is,” he trails off, huffing out a laugh that’s mirthless.

“TK, you don’t have to—” Carlos tries to interrupt, but TK doesn’t allow him to continue, too engrossed in what he _needs_ to say instead of listening.

“I do, I think I do, Carlos,” he says with a shaky voice. “I’ve been a jerk to you, and I said that you weren’t the love of my life when it’s a lie, and I’ve been lying to myself for so long that I didn’t realize I had started believing my own lies. But you, you didn’t give up on me until I pushed you away and even then, you took care of me.”

“TK,” Carlos tries again, but TK holds a hand in front of him and Carlos purses his lips in a thin line, keeping his words to himself, but shaking his head to show his disagreement.

“You’ve been saying you loved me in so many different ways, I just didn’t see it. I was too busy thinking about myself, dwelling on being a victim, that I forgot you had always been there for me. You said, once, that you weren’t trying to be my boyfriend or my friend.”

“That I did,” Carlos sighs. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“I know, _now_ ,” TK acquiesces. “I’m sorry I took you for granted. I’m sorry I didn’t understand that all those times you were taking care of me—everything you did and said, it meant you loved me.”

He inhales deeply, holding his breath for a few seconds before exhaling. He blinks before charging back in. “I haven’t even thanked you for the care package you sent through Grace.”

“I actually gave it to Michelle,” Carlos confesses. “But she was so disappointed with you, I can’t hold it against her that she didn’t give it to you. But TK, honestly, I don’t think you need to do this. I don’t need to hear it.”

TK deflates for a second. He hasn’t even thought that Carlos might turn him down so easily. He begins to feel the air leaving his lungs, a pressure building up from inside, and his vision blurs. He hasn’t thought that Carlos might not feel the same after so many weeks.

“TK?” Carlos calls him, and the sound comes as though underwater. TK doesn’t think he can breathe properly any longer. “TK, look at me, hey, look at me,” Carlos tries again. When TK doesn’t reply — because he can’t say anything, he’s drowning, Carlos moves swiftly and takes a seat right next to TK. “You’re having a panic attack. Please, let me help you.”

TK is shaking.

Carlos grabs his left hand and places it on his own chest, the steady beating underneath his uniform shirt grounding TK once again, a tether to this world that sometimes feels like such a hardship to navigate through. He feels his own heart slowing down until it reaches a normal speed, and he exhales.

“That’s it, TK, you’re doing good,” Carlos encourages him, hand over TK’s on top of his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, TK. I know you don’t have much experience with healthy relationships, Ty, and I tried to give you the space you needed. I just didn’t think it would wear on me so much.”

TK looks up at Carlos, eyes wide open and hopeful, only to be met with a love so endless that he could drown on it. He wants to suffocate on it. He smiles shyly as Carlos lets go of his hand and places both of his on the table. TK mimics his stance, ducking his head a little.

He knows he hasn’t said half of what he wanted to say. He hasn’t even told Carlos that he’s in love with him. He doesn’t know how to say that he feels that Carlos is his home. He’s a disaster when it comes to feelings, but he hasn’t thought about using substances the whole time Carlos has been a steady presence in his life. He’s only fallen down the rabbit hole once he gave up on Carlos — once he gave up on _himself_.

TK remembers how Grace told him that loving someone doesn’t necessarily mean saying the words. It can be shown in the little details — in a care package sent through friends, in taking a step back to give your soulmate a breather, in leaving everything to go to your loved one’s side, in offering to go a long length to help, in picking someone up at the airport.

Maybe he can say _I love you_ in other ways. Maybe he can show it. 

Maybe he can be the man Carlos needs for once in his life.

“Can I—can I hold your hand?” TK says, unsure of the reply he’s going to get. He loves the feeling of knowing Carlos inside and out, even if he hadn’t realized it before, but he hates the uncertainty of not knowing how to decipher the unreadable look in Carlos’ face. 

He holds his breath as Carlos stares at him. “Eating chimichanga while holding hands is a feat I have yet to master,” he says, but he doesn’t move his hand, his fingers fidgeting on top of the wood. 

“Would you be up for the challenge?” TK dares to say, itching to _feel_ but not sure whether he deserves it.

Carlos smiles slowly, a real smile that makes TK’s heart race faster than before with a blooming hope he’s starting to allow himself to feel. Carlos moves his hand slowly, fingertips grazing TK’s skin, until he turns his hand with his palm up, an invitation TK is more than willing to accept.

His hand hovers over Carlos’, suddenly too scared to even move. Carlos wriggles his fingers, a motion TK can only make out of the corner of his eye since he’s staring at Carlos’ eyes to gauge any negative reaction. But Carlos is staring back at him openly, and TK’s doubts dissolve in thin air the same way they showed up.

He intertwines his fingers with Carlos, his right hand tangled with Carlos’ left, and leans in, hoping against hope that he isn’t misreading the situation. He just wants a kiss, a sign that he’s finally on the right path, that he deserves to be happy. That they both do.

Carlos meets him halfway.

**Author's Note:**

> So we've reached the end! I hope you've all enjoyed this ride as much as I've enjoyed creating this universe. Please feel free to drop me prompts or send messages if you feel like it over at Tumblr!
> 
> Thank you very much for reading. It means a lot to me.
> 
> Come scream with me about all things Tarlos and 911 Lone Star in general over at [tumblr](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/)! [Requests are open](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/ask)!


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